Chapter Thirty-Four #2
“Teach?” she said, concentrating on his hands. “And… I don’t know what that means. Is it…happiness? Whose happiness?”
He gestured toward Olivia, and she caught her breath.
“The doxy was teaching you to make me happy?”
He lifted his hand and moved it from side to side as if to say she was almost, but not quite, correct.
“Oh my!” She let out a small cry as a nugget of desire pulsed in her center. “She was teasing you how to give me…pleasure?”
His eyes flared with eagerness, and he nodded. Then he unfolded the note and handed it to her. Trembling, she read the words as he touched his signet ring and rotated it.
I wish to give you pleasure but you must help me, for I’ve never tried to pleasure a woman before.
You must therefore tell me when something I do is pleasurable so that I might continue.
If you wish me to do anything that you feel you might enjoy, you must tell me what it is.
We shall learn the art of pleasure together.
Therefore, I ask that you place your trust in me, as I should have placed my trust in you from the moment we met.
Olivia’s heart fluttered at the expression in his eyes—one of a young boy embarking on a new task, eager to please someone he respected.
And loved.
She folded the note, kissed it, then set it aside.
Slowly she drew back the bedsheets. His eyes darkened with desire as he ran his gaze over her body, lingering on the neckline of her nightgown before moving along her skirts.
When his gaze reached the hem of her nightgown and her stockinged feet, his nostrils flared.
“As you see, husband, I’m wearing your gift.”
She grasped her skirts and pulled them up to her thighs until the tops of her stockings came into view, secured with the honey-colored garter ribbons.
He let out a low growl, the call of a beast ready to claim his mate. Primal, decadent, scandalous…
And she loved it.
He ran his hand over the bulge at the front of his breeches and closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. Then he continued to unbutton them and stepped out to stand before her completely unclothed.
Olivia’s body tightened with apprehension as, once more, she let her gaze fall to the part of him that stood, proud and eager, waiting to claim her.
I ask you to place your trust in me.
She caught a shimmer of uncertainty in his eyes, a plea for her approval, and her consent.
She caressed the edge of her stockings, then caught the end of the garter ribbon between her fingers.
“Sh-shall I remove my stockings, husband?” she said. “Or, perhaps you’d prefer to—Oh!”
His breathing ragged, he reached forward and grasped the ribbon. Then he hesitated, his body vibrating as if he were fighting to maintain control. She shifted her thighs apart, swallowing her shame at the dampness in her center.
“It would please me very much if you removed them.”
Slowly, he tugged at the ribbon until it worked loose.
He dipped his head, and she suppressed a cry as his warm lips brushed against the skin of her thigh.
Then he hooked a finger under the top of her stocking and peeled it off.
Her whole body seemed to hum with pleasure as the soft silk slid down her thigh, her husband’s fingertips brushing against her skin.
By the time he’d removed the other stocking, her body felt like it was on fire. Heat coursed through her veins, and the faint pulse in her center had thickened to a throbbing ache. Then he parted her thighs and looked at her body—at the secret place where she ached for him.
She ought to be ashamed at such wantonness, at revealing herself so intimately to another. But the raw need burning in his eyes made her feel beautiful…and desired.
He reached for her nightgown, which was—wickedly—bunched around her waist, then lifted his eyebrows and met her gaze.
“Do you wish me to remove it?” she whispered.
He continued to stare, in silence.
“I-I believe I would take pleasure from removing my nightgown.”
The corner of his mouth quirked upward, and she pulled her nightgown off and tossed it aside.
His eyes flared with hunger and the tip of his tongue flicked out as he dropped his gaze to her breasts.
Then he reached forward and took a breast in his huge hand, holding it with reverence as if it were a precious treasure.
Gently he squeezed and caressed, and Olivia’s heart ached to see the almost boyish delight in his eyes.
“Do you take pleasure from looking at my breasts, husband?”
He blinked.
“And…from touching them?”
Slowly, he nodded, and flicked his tongue out again.
“W-would you like to taste them?”
He caught his breath, as if in wonder, but remained still.
“Husband, did you not ask me to tell you when I might find an act pleasurable? You must do the same. We’re embarking on a journey together, are we not, in search of pleasure?”
He blinked again and his eyes shone with moisture. Then he placed his free hand over his heart and nodded.
“Then please,” she said, lying back, fighting her shame at her wantonness. “Taste my breasts.”
The bed shifted as he climbed over her and covered her body with his.
His arm muscles bulged with effort as he hovered above her so as not to crush her beneath his weight.
Then he lowered his head and his hair brushed over the skin of her breasts.
She caught her breath at the tickling sensation that drove a bolt of pleasure to her center.
Then he placed a soft kiss on her breast. She drew in a sharp breath, and he paused.
“Please continue.”
Such a polite request for such a decadent act!
His lips curved against her skin in a smile, then he peppered her breast with tiny kisses, flicking his tongue out at intervals.
His kisses grew more insistent as he brushed his lips over her skin.
Her nipple ached with need, and she arched her back in offering, unable to voice her plea.
Then he took her breast in his mouth and flicked his tongue over her nipple.
“Oh yes,” she breathed.
She inhaled and exhaled, focusing on the wave of pleasure building in her center. Then he clamped his lips over her nipple and sucked hard. Her body jerked as a bolt of pleasure tore through her.
He lifted his head, concern in his eyes, and she cried out in frustration.
“Don’t stop—please!”
He lowered his head again, covering her skin with nibbling kisses, then he gave her other breast the same loving attention before sitting back to admire his handiwork.
How could something so wicked give rise to such pleasure? Was this what drove women to madness and ruination?
Olivia swallowed her shame as she saw herself, spread before him, thighs parted, breasts heavy and needy, nipples hard and distended, offering her body to the beast before her.
And beast he was. That part of him, the essence of the beast that made him a man, beckoned to her from the curls between his thighs—thick and erect, with a bead of moisture glistening at the top, to match the moisture between her thighs.
“May I…touch you? I think it would give me pleasure. Would it please you?”
She sat up and reached for him, and he let out a low groan.
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean…” She retreated, but he grasped her wrist and shook his head.
He released her, and she curled her fingers around his length.
The faint echo of a pulse vibrated beneath her fingers and a slow smile curved his lips as he closed his eyes.
She began to caress him, relishing the soft, silken skin encasing the hardness within, and he tipped his head backward.
“Am I giving you pleasure, husband?”
He exhaled sharply, then nodded while she continued to caress him, moving her fingers along his length.
She ran her thumb over the tip, and his member jerked in her hand.
He let out a groan, as if in pain. But the expression on his face, lips parted, mouth curved in a gentle smile, was one of pure bliss.
“Shall I continue?”
He opened his eyes and shook his head. Then he took her hand and kissed it, brushing his lips over her knuckles. Holding it in both hands, he pressed it against his chest and sighed. His heartbeat pulsed thickly against her palm. Dare she hope that his heart beat for her?
He pushed her back again, moved to climb on top of her, then hesitated.
She curled her fingers around his arms.
“Please, Charles,” she whispered. “I want your body on top of mine. I want to feel you. I trust you not to hurt me.”
He blinked again, and a tear splashed onto her chest. Then he lowered his lips to hers.
At first, the kiss was gentle, as if he feared he might harm her.
Then, as his body relaxed over hers, the kiss grew more insistent.
He flicked his tongue against the seam of her lips, and she parted them to welcome him.
With a low growl, he slipped his tongue in and caressed the inside of her mouth in soft, sweeping gestures.
He tasted of warmth and spice, and she curled her tongue around his to draw him in deeper.
Then she felt his manhood shifting against her thighs, moving slickly against her heated skin. The tip of him prodded against her center, and she caught her breath at the ripple of pleasure. He broke their kiss and raised his eyebrows, asking, once more, for consent.
Gladly, my love…
There was no need for words. As if he’d read her mind, his eyes widened in delight, and he eased himself into her.
This time there was no pain, only a delicious friction where he filled her, pausing to let her body stretch around him before he slid in deeper until their hips met and he clung to her, his breathing labored.
“No pain,” she whispered. “Only pleasure.”
Slowly he withdrew, and she jerked at a little pulse of pleasure. Then he slid into her again and she lifted her hips to meet him, chasing both the friction and the pleasure.
“Again,” she said, her breathing growing ragged.
He withdrew and plunged in again.
“Harder… Faster…”
A look of wonder flared in his eyes as she begged him to continue, willing the pleasure that was just out of reach to come to the fore.
His breath came out in short, sharp puffs and he increased the pace while she met each thrust, causing a wave of pleasure that receded each time he withdrew then surged forward, each time stronger than the last. The swell rose above her and she closed her eyes, surrendering to the pure sensation as her rational mind began to dissolve.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth, mirroring the union of their bodies, and devoured her as he thrust into her body, slamming his hips against hers. The surge morphed into an explosion that shattered her soul, and she cried out his name as waves of ecstasy tore through her body.
“Charles! Sweet heaven… Oh… Charles!”
He exhaled sharply, shuddering, and a wave of heat filled her body.
Then he fell forward, his weight bearing down on her, but she relished it.
In a wicked little corner of her mind, she drew pleasure from the notion of being a female claimed by the beast who pinned her down while he took his—and her—pleasure.
As his breathing steadied, he enveloped her in his arms and rolled onto his side, still inside her. A flare of heat ignited in her center, and he smiled, thrusting once more inside her while she sighed with pleasure.
A delicious languor overcame her, and she relaxed in his arms while his heartbeat slowed to a deep, steady pulse. Then he exhaled, slowly, his breath fanning her heated skin until, at length, he fell asleep, cradling her in his arms.
Finally, Olivia understood what Eleanor had said about the delights to be found in the marriage bed, and how much she hoped that Olivia would take just as much pleasure from her marriage.
And Olivia’s pleasure would be complete, save for two things.
The secret she carried in her belly and the fact that though she had screamed his name, declaring her pleasure and her love, she would never hear her husband speak hers.